


Delicious Little Secret

by sapphirephoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6981364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirephoenix/pseuds/sapphirephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> When this person discovers Hermione's the one who's been writing graphic, filthy, incredibly hot letters to him/her, there's no question about enacting what she's written. </p>
<p>My submission for the 2012 hermione_smut fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicious Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Hermione Granger knew one thing about herself: when she discovered something, she pursued it like an obsession. Whether it be the line of dolls her aunt had first given her when she was five, the wooden constructing game her father had given her when she was seven, magic, house-elf rights, defeating Voldemort, Hermione took on her fascinations with a fervour.

So, when her department at the ministry was consolidated with Draco Malfoy’s department, and they started attending meetings together, and she saw him for the first time in almost a decade, a spark was lit in Hermione. Ashamed at first, the confusion of the past versus the present quickly burnt away. Now she had _it_ for Draco Malfoy, and it was her delicious little secret.

It had started at the second weekly meeting, which was always at the end of Wednesdays. The group had filed in, murmuring amongst each other. Not Malfoy. He just found a seat and listened, contributing when absolutely necessary.

He sat like a statue. A broad-shouldered statue, who’s prodigious sculptor knew how tailored robes should look on a man. The colour always suited his skin. The line of his jaw, chiselled above the high collar of his robes, had drawn Hermione’s eye to Malfoy’s mouth.

His upper lip was a perfect cupid’s bow, and the lower was flat with just a dollop of pink in the middle. They looked painted on.

They looked delicious.

That’s how it started. Hermione found, on a random sticky note she’d fashioned out of scratch parchment, the words _’Perfect, around my nipple’_.

She’d burnt up the little square of parchment with the flame of her desk lamp as soon as she got out of the meeting, of course. Hermione might have confidence with her obsessions, but she knew better than to let it go any further than that. Now, she allowed herself the last bit of the meeting, when the petty squabbles began, until she left her desk for the day for her... hobby.

She often stayed later than everyone anyway, so no one was ever there to notice the pink in her cheeks when she pulled the lamp closer, destroying all evidence of what she would write.

When Draco’s barber had changed things up, and he’d come to the meeting with shortly cropped hair, except for a bit of length that fell over his forehead, Hermione had to fight to keep from staring at his piercing grey eyes.

_So much less to twine my fingers through, but so worth it. Still enough at the top to hold you while you lap my slit, teasing us both. Pulling you in when we’re ready, feeling the soft bristles at the back of your head with my palm, your cheeks tickling my thighs._

Thighs pressed together, Hermione had watched that one burn with delight.

Two weeks ago, she had been late to the meeting, and the only chair left had been next to him. It was the closest they had ever been to each other, ever, except for maybe third year. But he hadn’t been _this_ Draco then, this savoury-scented, svelte example of a wizard.

_Smelling you first, then feeling you press against my back, my arse. Your hands up my torso, on my breasts, and your teeth on my neck. Spreading my legs to make room for you. I love feeling you between my legs, pounding, and the heat of your breath, and your hands on my tits. Getting lost in it, your hand smacks my arse, fingers fisting in my hair. I want to be surrounded in the scent of you, working to please me._

Eventually, the notes had to get folded up to burn with any efficiency without setting off the fire alarm. She knew from experience, once it went passed a foot of parchment, her little fantasy had to be destroyed with care.

* * *

It had been a shock for Draco, coming to work in this place. It wasn’t that his job had changed, per se, but where once they had been a small division making headway when possible but staying close to the path of least resistance most of the time, they were now three times as many with individuals devoted to projects to achieve much greater success.

It was just more faces and a bigger hall for more desks to navigate through. Except for one thing, _one_ person: Hermione Granger.

There was something happening with her, something Draco couldn’t quite put his finger on. She was the same, but _something_ was different. He wasn’t surprised that she worked late, that she had every answer, or that she helped the people struggling in the office. She was a favourite with the bosses and with the other departments, at least when she wasn’t resented.

No, it was something else. Something no one expected, not even him, perhaps. She looked like she was getting shagged _all_ the time, but she was a known workaholic and had no relationships. Both of her little boyfriends were married with ankle-biters of their own, but any sort of event that came up, one or the other would escort her.

This left Draco, sitting at his desk in the shadows, watching her as she scribbled page after page late this Wednesday evening. He hated when something escaped his notice, and even if it was something trivial, Draco was going to figure out what was happening. One night of late reconnaissance was well worth it if he figured out Granger’s secret.

Although, it had already been two hours, and he was starting to feel more than a little peckish.

At last, Granger set down her quill and sat up. Then she pulled her arms over her head and stretched, groaning softly. Next she cracked her neck, rolling her head and sighing very loudly. Finally, she pulled her lamp toward the centre of the table, and then placed a folded up parchment in the flame.

_What was she doing?_

A low hum filled the empty hall as the flames ate away at the last bits of parchment. Granger pushed back from her desk and gathered her things. When she was finished, she tidied her desk, Vanishing the small pile of ashes, and putting the lamp where it belonged. Then she pushed in her chair, her heels clicking towards him, as his desk was in an alcove by the door.

When she was a few steps away, Draco flicked his wand, illuminating his own desk. He leaned back so that his face was hidden in the shadows and cleared his throat.

Granger startled and drew her wand. When her eyes got to him, she lowered her wand but didn’t put it away. “Malfoy.”

“Granger.” He drew out the syllables, folding his fingered across his chest. The lamp light was very flattering for her. She looked... vibrant.

They watched each other for a few moments before Granger asked, “Did you need something?”

Draco shook his head. “Just curious why you would stay late working on sometime only to destroy it.”

She licked her lips and smiled at him. “Sometimes you just have to watch the world burn, Malfoy.”

Her words sent a ripple down Draco’s spine, and he couldn’t keep from smiling.

She shook her head at him and turned to go. He let her walk out, waiting until the sound of her footsteps faded. Then, Draco moved to her desk. A lot could be learned from a person’s things, as much as from the witch herself. As he approached, however, he felt a warning sting about a foot from her desk. He pushed his hand forward, flinching when her wards insisted he stay back.

“ _Accio_ Granger’s portfolio.”

Nothing.

“ _Accio_ my portfolio.” Draco stared at Granger’s desk, holding his hand out for his portfolio as he formulated his plan.

In this case, the rules of the department were working for him. Everyone worked from a standard issue portfolio, unable to customise a presentation until it was complete and a superior had approved. His parchments looked just like Granger’s parchments.

A simple copying charm on his parchments placed in Granger’s portfolio, and whatever she worked on would appear at his desk. It was almost too simple. The trick was, getting it on her desk.

Draco drummed his fingers on the sheath of parchment for a moment before it donned on him. Parchment deliveries always came to his inbox. He walked around to the corner of her desk where _her_ empty inbox sat, and slid the parchments in.

Done.

Smiling, Draco left for the evening, anticipation of Granger’s secret sending a thrill through his skin.

* * *

Hermione sat down at the weekly meeting, wondering if Malfoy and his team were going to mention a setback. Thursday, he’d been excited. He wasn’t boisterous, exactly, but Hermione had had a sense of expectancy from him, and the days since then had faded into a sullen frustration.

His hands flexed when he let his thoughts run away, and he was making a point of looking around the room, as if his attention couldn’t be held by the speaker. He was still listening of course, but something was off.

It got Hermione thinking. Pulling a fresh sheet of parchment out and tucking it under her meeting notes, Hermione pulled everything into her lap so she could jot down some... private ideas.

_The way your body moves when you’re displeased is thrilling._  
I get wet just watching you work to contain whatever has you in a snit.  
Is it me?  
Can I look forward to an angry night with you?  
If I shoved you, would you grab me?  
Would you hold me against your body? I want to feel you, barely contained, rubbing against me.  
You could hold me down, slide your tongue over mine until I give in completely.  
Or are you waiting for me to do that to you? Pinch your nipples until you concede, scraping my teeth until you forget what’s wrong. You know I can take charge, take your cock deep in me and ride it. Leveraging my pussy back and forth over your prick, your wrists in my hands. I want to hear you moan. I want to see your eyes spark like flint just before you finish, before you come for me, forgetting your troubles, make you loose where you are tense. 

As always, Hermione wasn’t exactly sure how she got from the meeting to her desk, or how it went from five o’clock to almost eight. She read and reread tonight’s letter before pushing back away from it. Her body felt alive, tingling, and ready.

She smoothed her hands over her robes. It was amazing how titillating her own clothes were when she was aroused. Hermione swallowed, bringing folded parchment over flame. With a shrug, she almost hoped Malfoy’s stormy mood would hold. She hadn’t gotten to enjoy herself on this angrier vein for some time.

Taking one last look at her desk, she noticed an envelope that hadn’t gone in the last inter-office post. It was no problem. If she left out of the north end of the hall, the office was on her way. Gathering the rest of her things, she left out the far end of the hall, ready for a hot bath and a glass of whiskey.

* * *

At his desk, Draco kept his breath calm and quiet.

He had noticed the neat penmanship appearing about halfway through the meeting, tucking it away so that he could give it the undivided attention it deserved after. What he took back to his desk had shocked him.

_Can I look forward to an angry night with you?_

What a curious question for Granger to scribble at a budget meeting.

Draco was thrilled. He thought his plot had failed. It was Monday before she began using the parchment he had left at her desk, and the last thing he wanted was more of Granger’s copious notes, particularly on the projects that had nothing to do with him.

But there it was:

_I want to feel you, barely contained, rubbing against me._

Draco swallowed. _It’s the quiet ones you have to watch for._

It was lucky for him that his robes hid the inevitable hard-on that came as he sat at his desk, reading as she wrote more and more. It didn’t all come in a rush. It trickled, like syrup onto his page, and he watched, desperate for the next line and the next. Granger had some very lurid thoughts.

This made Draco even more curious. Who was the object of all of this lust? Was it a generic composite of men that she pulled forward when the meeting became dull? Was it someone _in_ the meeting. Not wanting to admit, even to himself, that he hoped it was him, he stared at the word ‘flint’.

He blinked, and the image of Granger, above him, _riding_ him flashed across his imagination.

He needed more. He needed to know _who_ she was thinking of.

At least he now knew why she destroyed the parchments. Draco folded his copy and slipped it into his pocket. He wasn’t about to leave it at his desk. In fact, he took the rest of the charmed parchments home with him, securing his secret in his private study.

* * *

Whatever Malfoy had wanted, he’d gotten. Not that Hermione was surprised. Malfoy was one of the most successful agents in the department.

However, the smug smirk that drove her crazy when they were at Hogwarts now had a very different effect on her. She tried to ignore it as she went about her week, but her dreams became wild, and even though she didn’t always remember them, she did remember that smirk. Was it because she had been surprised by him a couple weeks ago? Was it a delayed reaction to his hiding in the shadows?

What had he been waiting for?

Whatever it was, he must have gotten it, because when he sat down at the weekly meeting, she could nearly feel the excited energy coming off of him. That, and the smirk that he just couldn’t keep from his lips.

_Someone’s happy today._  
I know it has nothing to do with me, but when I get caught in that gaze, my knickers get damp.  
I think about your eyes skimming over my body, approving of every inch.  
Then your hands, retracing where your eyes have been.  
Pressing into my skin, into my muscles, through my hair.  
Your hands spread my thighs, spread my labia apart. You can see how wet your little victory has made me, and that makes you feel even more victorious. Teasing my little hole and playing with my clit. You want inside of me, but you want to be victorious even more. Two fingers slide deep inside.  
I know what you want to hear, and I want to say it, but your fingers feel so good that even though it’s not enough, I wait it out. Maybe I want to be victorious.  
Your hand pulls out, pushes up my body. Your fingers leave trails, and you wipe what’s left across my nipple. Your whole hand strokes my neck, and then your two fingers tickle my lip. I open my mouth, sucking your fingers in.  
That’s when you push three fingers from your other hand in my pussy. I arch up, so close, but you’re not touching my clit.  
I open my eyes because you’re chuckling. Everything changes when our eyes meet. You finger me properly, and I try to seduce you with my tongue on your fingers. Your thumb starts rubbing my clit, and I’m lost.  
My mouth opens when I announce my orgasm, and you climb on the bed and start fucking me into the mattress. You’ve waited too long to ‘fuck properly’, as you say, and it’s just rutting, pounding until you come inside of me. 

* * *

Draco, sitting on his couch with the parchment in one hand and his softening prick in the other, started to wonder how long he can keep up this charade. It was Wednesday night, and he’d had the wank of his life. Perhaps, it was also one of the better orgasms of his life. _Over a parchment._

He couldn’t prove it, but he thought that Granger was fantasising about _him_. Thus, he wasn’t feeling as guilty as he suspected she would think he should. This was _very_ private. That it started at the office didn’t change that.

Sure that it was him, Draco didn’t know how he could look at her again without devouring every inch of her flesh.

Draco, being a Malfoy, would not be able to keep this to himself. She clearly wanted to shag him into the ground. Their working relationship was fine, amiable really. However, that didn’t mean that she would ever have dinner with him. That was the problem.

Hermione Granger had become the sort of woman that any man worth anything should want: smart, self-aware, and sexier than he had imagined. 

He had to have her. She had to be with him and him only.

However, being a Malfoy, Draco knew that there was a time and a place for everything. They were gearing up for the busy season in the office. He wouldn’t want to confront her until they both had more time to devote to... this project.

Besides, a few more pages of parchment would hold him, for the moment.

* * *

Two months later, Hermione was two envelopes away from finishing her Friday. Things were calming down at work, and she thought she might go home at five o’clock for a change. The other people in her office had been trickling out the door since about three.

The first of the two was junk: an inter-office bake sale for something.

The second was blank, except for ‘Granger’ on the front. She dropped it immediately.

It had felt like a standard issue office envelope, but she pulled out her wand and checked it for trouble anyway.

Finding nothing, she put her letter opener to it. Inside was a card.

_I know.  
~DM_

Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest. Then she flipped the card over.

_Antonio’s, Muggle London. 7._

Malfoy had left before noon. Hermione tried to remember his temperament that morning. He had been busy, ploughing through as much as work as he could.

And what did he think he knew, anyway? It was impossible that he’d seen her letters. She was never noticed writing, and she destroyed all of them immediately after production. Besides, there was nothing to tie the letters to him, not one mention of silver-blond hair, his angular face, or his Malfoy-pale skin.

She had been _careful_.

If he wanted to blackmail her, he must think he had something else. That made her very curious.

Pushing away from her desk, Hermione set the wards and strode toward the exit. She had to get ready for a battle of wills with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco sipped his wine and waited. He had arrived ten minutes early to ensure the tiny restaurant would be private for the evening and now he was just waiting for Granger.

It was one of his favourite places. It was a hole-in-the wall with only three tables. They didn’t take reservations, and the service encouraged leisurely meals over authentic food and fine wine imported only from Italy.

Ever punctual, she arrived as the clock struck seven. She wore a long black dress that clung to her curves, and if he wasn’t mistaken, had a discrete hiding place for her wand in the empire waist.

Draco was impressed that she’d made an effort to look inconspicuous in a Muggle restaurant on a Friday night, as if this were a date.

It wasn’t yet, but Draco was hoping that this would be the first in a long line of Friday’s in the company of Hermione Granger.

She smiled at the waiter as she sat. Draco poured her a glass of wine, and they waited until he pushed in Hermione’s chair and slid away.

Then, she set her smile on him, although it lost all of its pleasant quality when turned his direction. “What’s this about, then?”

“Never negotiate on an empty stomach.” Draco broke the loaf of bread and offered her a piece.

She looked around, and seeing that it was just them and the staff, took it. “There is nothing to negotiate. Good bread.” She sat back in her chair a bit and set her attention to the _very_ good bread they were eating.

Draco smiled. It was nice to see her out of her robes, see her body for what it was. She was a bit soft, yes. The plight of those chained to a desk. She was fit, though, and her skin was clear. Her hair was lighter on top, but the underside was a dark chocolate that looked as smooth as silk.

“You’re staring.”

“My hands will retrace every place my eyes have approved, I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed, but the first course came, and she was bent on being kind to the waiter.

“No, they won’t,” she said once they were alone again.

“Why ever not? We are both consenting adults.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said, before humming around her fork as she took her first bite. Her eyes rolled a bit, and she dove back into her plate for more.

“I have nearly a dozen pages of parchment that speak for _you_.”

Without taking her eyes off her plate “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Draco chewed for a moment, watching and hoping that he might have her on edge now. “You know exactly what I mean. It has become my favourite part of Wednesdays.”

She took a sip of wine and looked around the quiet restaurant. “What?”

“When you stop working and start... writing.”

Finally, she set her fork down, folding her hands over her plate with her elbows on the table. “Say what you have to say, Malfoy.”

He opened his mouth to do just that, but a waiter came by to clear the first course, and the second arrived. Draco watched as Granger took in the aroma from her plate, thanked the waiter, and began eating again.

“It is common knowledge that you live a solitary life, and yet you always look as if you’ve just had the best shag. I’ve found out why, and I find that I am compelled to... agree.”

She stared at him as she ate, and Draco began to eat as well. The minutes stretched out, and quiet came with them, until the second course was cleared and the third lain out.

“I don’t believe you.” Her words were quiet but clear. Her plate had her complete focus otherwise, and it jarred Draco just how well she could compartmentalise.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s mad, and you know it.”

“What can I say, Granger? Sometimes you just have to watch the world burn.”

She looked at him. She had to have known that he was parroting back what she said now.

Draco had read and re-read what she had written, subsisting on those parchments and his hand instead of whatever witch he could wine and dine and then shag.

“Why?”

He reached across the table and put his fingered on the back of her hand. “Why not?”

She didn’t pull away. She didn’t move at all.

Draco pulled back and filled their wine glasses, emptying the bottle.

The third course was taken away shortly after, and dessert presented. They ate in quiet again, Granger lost to her thoughts, and Draco staring at her, every inch of her. When she was finished, she drank the rest of her wine and stood.

“I’ll consider it.”

Without another word, she walked away.

* * *

Hermione hid in her flat all weekend, and even called in sick on Monday. It was obvious, now, that Draco had been getting a copy of her... writing as she did it. She herself knew three spells that would do the job—boring, ordinary spells. She couldn’t believe how... irresponsible she had been.

When she came back to work Tuesday, she had decided to go ahead with it. One go wouldn’t hurt anything, and if it was a tremendous failure, which it would be, then they could quickly move past it.

She tried not to think about Malfoy that day, or the day after. She had to get through Monday’s work as well as Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s, so she was rather shocked when she found herself trapped in a ‘broken’ lift with Malfoy Thursday morning, who looked quite put out.

“You’ve decided against it, then,” he said, leaning against the wall of the lift with his arms crossed over his chest.

It struck Hermione that he was pouting. “No. What would make you think that?”

“You didn’t write yesterday. I assumed it meant you weren’t interested.”

“What? As if you read your copy the moment you have it?”

His only reply was a smouldering look. Suddenly his casual lean and crossed-arms didn’t look like a spoiled child, but like a man who was impatient for her to catch up.

“Oh,” she said, turning away from him and pressing the button again. That’s when the lift jerked to a start, and the doors opened at the next level. Draco pushed past her, as casual as if he hadn’t just implied what he had. It wasn’t until the doors began to close that Hermione realised she needed off as well.  
***  
One week later, at lunch on Thursday, Malfoy cornered Hermione on her way from the toilets. He stopped, pretending to look at some art on the wall.

“I tried. I just...”

“What, Granger? I don’t believe that you’ve suddenly forgotten how to. The meal wasn’t _that_ good.”

“I...” she started but trailed off. Malfoy arched his eyebrow at her. Closing her eyes, she said, “I felt self-conscious. Knowing that you’re reading makes it different.”

“I see.” He rocked back on his heeled and slid his hands into the folded of his robes. They stood there for a moment, looking at the art on the wall. Then Malfoy pulled his watch out and looked at it. As if remembering an urgent meeting he stepped behind Hermione to go. His voice crept into her ear and down her spine. “I don’t want you to write for me. I want to read your selfish fantasies. Your prize is that I will do whatever you write next Friday night, within reason.”

His words and his voice and his body behind her all reminded Hermione how this had all began. It wasn’t about him at all, of course. She turned to walk back to office, her mind bending to fit this new reality.

* * *

_Opening the door to the room, you let me in without a word._  
You are dressed, but not completely. You’ve been in the room, making it and yourself ready.  
As you close the door, I hang my cloak up.  
Not wasting a moment, you pull my back against your chest. Whispers ghost down my neck.  
It’s early though, and there’s no need to rush. You show me the sofa, and we sit. Your arm rests across the back of the sofa, and even though we are not touching, you can see I’m ready for this. Dressed to seduce, you can’t keep your eyes off me. Then your fingertips are on my neck, your mouth is over mine, and the space between us heats.  
Your touch tickles down my arm, and over to my breast. You break the kiss for a moment, just to take a last look at my body. Snogging again, your hand finds your favourite place, and your body pushes me back onto the cushions. 

Hermione snatched the lamp to the centre of her desk, feeling perfectly foolish at what she’d written. She knew Malfoy had left for the day; he’d taken to leaving directly after the meeting. It struck her then, _why exactly_ that was, and she hurried to burn her parchment.

Rushing home, Hermione was certain she’s made the worst mistake. They work in the same department! It was bloody _Malfoy_!

She stayed up half the night sick with worry and humiliation. It took every ounce of discipline she had to get to work the next day, and she couldn’t eat or even stomach a cup of tea along the way. It wasn't until she got to her desk, embarrassed and angry with herself that she’s checked for Malfoy at his, only to find him not there, and set down her bag that she found an envelope inside.

It was a card with a room key attached.  
_Penthouse, Maeve’s Escape  
tomorrow_

Hermione stared at the card for a full minute before sinking into her chair and burying herself in work.

* * *

Draco tried to keep from staring at the door, but he could not. The room was ready. The luxurious bed was turned down, the liquor cabinet was full, there was a light repast tucked away under a cooling charm.

He was not wearing shoes or socks or cuff links. His sleeves were rolled up just twice, enough to hold the cuffs together since he had removed the cuff links. The top button of his oxford shirt was undone as he was not wearing a tie.

He wanted no obstacles in his path to getting nude with Granger. Or was it _for_ Granger? It didn’t matter as long as there was nothing in the way.

The candles in the sitting room were burning but not bright. They were even less bright in bedroom. The fire was warm. Draco touched his face once more to check that his skin was smooth.

Then, he heard the key to the room. Striding forward, he knew the story was about to begin.  
Opening the door to the room, he let her in. He remembered to keep silent, letting her pass without a word. Draco closed the door, and Granger moved to hang her cloak. He took the cue, and stepped behind her. His hands were on her hips, pulling her back against his chest.

“Thank you for coming. You won’t regret it.”

Whispers ghosted down her neck. It wasn’t scripted, but his lips followed. She smelled divine, and her shoulders were bare. Draco couldn’t help himself.

_It’s early though, and there’s no need to rush._

Draco recalled the little warning and pulled back. Then, with his hand on her back, he showed her the sofa, and they sat. He looked at her, and Granger was watching him as though she were a bird. She was skittish and wary, but Draco smiled at her and rested his arm on the back of the sofa.

He had permission to gaze at her, and after looking at every inch of her face, his eyes dipped lower and lower. Her dress, a dark, dusky peach, clinged to her body looking soft as sin, and the slits up the sides of the dress showed her pale skin in tantalising relief.

“Merlin,” Draco whispered. Then, his fingertips touch her neck and his mouth was over hers. In the letter she had predicted it, but he was surprised when the places they were not touching become nearly as hot as the places they were.

Taking his time to kiss her, really show her how much even this little bit had aroused him, he teased her neck with his fingertips. He felt her skin prick up as his touch became softer and softer.

When she finally moaned, Draco felt free to move forward. His fingers tickled down her arm, and over her breast. It was perfect in his palm, and he continued snogging her for as long as he could. 

Draco suspected Granger had been trying to allow for his personal preferences by being vague with her words. He broke the kiss for a moment, to take a long look at her body, but it was far from the last. He pushed her skirt off her thigh, and his hand slipped inside the long slit. It moved from beneath the fabric and up over her hip, along the curve to her waist, and back to her breast. He leaned forward, snogging again, and his hand pushed back down. He pressed against her, urging her body back onto the cushions.

His arm came off the back of the sofa, and he helped her move her leg so that he was kneeling between her thighs. Draco managed to pull away despite his reluctance.

“That’s all you wrote.” His breath was raspy and panting. Draco stroked her body through her dress, desperate for more of her.

“I felt silly.”

Draco leaned over her. “Why? Did you think I would laugh? You must know better than that.”

“Because you’re Draco Malfoy and I’m Hermione Granger, and we don’t live in a world where—“

He cut off her words with his mouth, sliding his tongue against hers until she forgot herself. “Sometimes you just have to watch the world burn.”

Granger’s hands came up to his chest, as if to push him away. “Don’t say that.” She stared at him, frozen except that her blood was racing, making her lips dark and her cheeks pink. Draco pulled his shirt from his body, tearing the buttons through their holes along the way. Then, he pressed their chests together, one hand in her chocolate curls while the other stroked her thigh.

“Your little letters make me so hard. I’ve never wanted to fuck someone like I want to fuck you.” Draco gripped her hair just enough for her to turn her head. “It’s more than your body. It’s your filthy, dirty thoughts about me.” His prick was nestled at the top of her thighs, her skirt folding awkwardly around their legs, tangled up in them. “Take the things you want in life.” His hand fell from her hair, sliding down her neck to her breast, which he squeezed.

That made her snort, and she rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a true Malfoy.” However, she was beneath him, responding to his body even as part of her tried to talk them out of this.

Her words rolled off of him because all he wanted was to taste every inch of her skin. “You don’t usually back away from what you want, either, Granger.”

She shrugged.

“What made you first start writing those letters, anyway?”

Her eyed dart to his mouth and stayed.

Draco smiled. “Tell me. Tell me what the first thing was, and I will do it. Your wish is my command.”

Granger licked her lips and looked away from his mouth, as if to hide from him. “Your mouth on my nipple.”

“That’s it? No preamble?” Draco asked, his lips just outside her ear. She shook her head, and he had to fight for control. The hand that was already at her breast slid to the seam of her dress, lowering it slowly. He kept his mouth by her ear, breathing heavily into it.

If she wasn’t going to watch him, he wanted her to know just how much this was effecting him in the hoped it would affect her as well.

Beneath her dress she wore nothing. Draco slid his hand over her hip and back, detecting nothing there either. “Fuck! Merlin, Granger!” he whispered and moved as fast as he can to wrap his mouth around her nipple as she wanted.

His prick was straining in his trousers, demanding to be let free, but Draco denied himself. He devoted his attention to her breasts, sucking and licking, teasing until her heels were against his arse. The skirt of her dress was shoved up above her navel, the top bunched there as well. Granger’s hands squeezed his arms and his shoulders.

When her fingers twisted in his hair, Draco couldn’t take any more. He grabbed her wrists, shoving them over her head. “Should I fuck you now? On the sofa?” Before she could answer, though, his mouth was on her again, devouring and desperately wishing he wasn’t wearing trousers. “Not this time. The first time we’re going to the bed so I can—what did you call it?”

Draco wrenched his body off of her, standing so he could drop his trousers. He watched as Granger wriggled into a sitting position, adjusting her top so she was covered once more. She watched as he shed his clothes, eyes soaking up _every_ inch of him.

He was surprised how much he enjoyed being objectified. Draco’s prick bobbed a bit when her eyes lingered there. They looked glassy and unfocussed as she stared.

“Granger.”

Draco knew he wasn’t huge, although he was so hard right now he could believe that maybe he had grown a third leg. He wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled the skin back from the head.

“Granger,” he said with a bit more force.

Her eyes rose to his, climbing slowly up his body. “Bedroom,” she whispered and licked her lips.

“Ladies first.”

He watched as she slid off the sofa, tossed her hair a bit, and then trotted toward the open door. Her arms were behind her back, working the zip of her dress. Draco’s eyes were glued to her arse, round and full, stretching the soft, peach fabric. Then, as she crossed the threshold, she pushed her hands over her hips, shedding everything she wore.

She turned back to look at him, and it was a challenge. Everything about her; her posture, her curves, her hungry stare, and her smirk; _everything_ was a dare. He went after her, desperate to accept her provocation.

Granger sat on the bed and budged back a bit. Just as her feet made it onto the bed, Draco grabbed her ankle, pulling her back to him. He held her knees apart so he could nestle his cock on her cunt. It was hot and wet and perfect.

“Shag you properly. That’s what you wrote.” He reached down to grab his prick, pushing the tip along her slit. “I’d never thought of it that way. I’m going to do my best at being properly improper now, Granger.”

Then he pushed into her opening. It was... glorious. Draco shut his eyes as he slid deeper and deeper in. Outside of his mind, he could hear her moaning, but all his mind could register was his hands, hot on her thighs, and his prick encased in her tight hole, hot and wet and his.

“Draco-o!”

His eyes snapped open. He’d never heard her say his first name before. Draco wrapped her thighs around his hips and leaned forward to grab her tits. “Is that what it sounds like when you frig yourself and think of me?”

Granger’s head rolled to one side, and her hips tried to move against his cock. It stole his breath at first, but he pushed back into her, making her whine a bit.

“Does my cock feel as good as you thought it would?” He paused to slide in and out a few times before he moved to lie on top of her. “Did you _know_ it would feel this way?”

Her answer was more of a grunt than a word, but Draco knew that Granger liked his cock. He fucked her slowly, feeling her take him in again and again. He was thinking of her letters: each memory of them fought to be the first acted out.

“My chest on your calves, Granger,” Draco started, moving her legs so he could hold them with one arm across her thighs. “A week before Christmas, do you remember this one?” He slammed into her, making her moan. “My chest on your calves, prick pushing into your _quim_ , Granger. You’ve given me a taste for that word, and—“ Draco paused to roll his hips, feeling her arse brush against him. “And that’s just the beginning. Holding your legs together like this, you don’t have any leverage. I can take as much—“ He pushed all the way in, folding her legs over her chest a bit, and rubbing his cheek on her silky soft calf. Draco groaned, looking over her body. “Or as little as I like. Feeding you my cock again and again.”

With his hand around her ankles, Draco pressed so her knees would bend and he could watch as he slid in and out of her. As he pulled back, Granger would whine, and it was such a delicious sound that Draco had to push back in a hurry. He would groan, trying to think of the next bit of that letter, but his focus was completely shot.

That was when Draco noticed she was curling her knees more, tilting her hips just so. It changed the angle he was entering in, and it felt amazing. “Granger, I’m close.”

“Yes,” she hissed. Then, she pressed her chest up and said, “Do it.”

The thought that she hadn’t finished yet flickered across his mind, but Draco couldn’t hold on to it. Just a few more thrusts, and he was shooting off inside of her, his voice choking in his throat.

Her letters had been hot, but the real thing was an inferno. Draco, having pulled her thighs against his body once more as he peaked, clung to them now for balance. He wasn’t sure his legs would work at the moment.

A loud hum from below pulled Draco from his post-coital doze. He moved his face from between her calves, and looked down.

She was smiling, stretching, and pushing her hands over her sensitive flesh. Draco made sure to put her legs on the bed as carefully as he could before crawling beside her. The trickiest part was removing his soft cock from inside her, when all he wanted was to put it back in again. They both moaned, a rueful chuckle from Granger at the end.

Draco rubbed his eyes and then touched Granger’s arm with his fingertips. “Care for a bit of a nap before we go again?”

She nodded, and on impulse, Draco draped one arm across her body, pulling her close as consciousness slipped away.

* * *

_I close my eyes at night and hear you now. ‘Feeding you my cock.’ Hearing you say my words has me wet in a way that I cannot begin to describe._

_‘Feeding you my cock.’_

_I want it in my mouth right now. Trousers around your ankles, your hand on the back of my head, stroking my hair, gently guiding. Bringing you close and then letting you relax. My lips playing around the tip, teasing._

* * *

“You know you’ve won the day—I can’t stand up any more.” Draco breathed heavily as he read his copy of the newest letter. His job had been to stand for as long as he could take it, and he had done well at first. The parchment floated back up to eye level, and Hermione sat between his knees.

Once she settled, Draco began again. “Your mouth slides up! Fuck, Granger! Up my sh-aft. You’re getting wet sucking me, you’re hungry for my cock.”

Draco shook his hair back from his face. He was petting her hair, and he didn’t want to stop. However, balancing on her ottoman, he pushed his heels into the carpet to get more properly balanced. Finally situated, Draco stroked his hands down to touch her jaw, nudging her away. “Torture, Granger.”

“I could stop.”

She stared up at him with the obvious knowledge that he was not going to let her stop.

Draco wrapped his fingers around the end of his prick, hoping that it would help him gain control. A quick squeeze, like he would at home, alone, and Draco was finally able to read the parchment again. “Close your eyes. Feel my tip on your tongue. S-suck it between your lips.” 

He watched her lips come around him and hissed through his teeth. It sounded like torture, but Granger was gloriously talented with her tongue. Swallowing, Draco slowed his breathing, the parchment moving back into his line of sight with a quiet rustling.

“N-nibble the tip,” he said and pushed a bit more in. “You like my cock in your mouth.”

Granger’s brown eyes opened up and pinned him in place. She had less than an inch of him in her mouth, but it felt like he could go at any moment. Her lips were warm and plump and tickling around the head of his cock. Touching her jaw again, pulling her closer, feeding her more, he said the next line. “That’s it, oh! How much can you take? A little extra.”

Draco watched the heat rise in her cheeks. Then, her eyes closed, and she rubbed her thighs together before settling again on her knees. Draco had to work hard at switching the pronouns from her letters. Every word that stumbled from his lips she would do, and Draco knew that hearing him talk the way she wrote was making her even more wet. It was the key to not having finished after the first ten minutes.

Draco pulled back again, desperate to feel the evolution of those moves again. He pressed his tip over her lips and said, “Feel the tip on your tongue. Suck it through your lips. Mmm—Hermione, nibble me.”

She did, and it was the single best feeling of Draco’s entire life. It was so good that when her tongue tickled under the head of his cock, he began shooting off. Draco’s eyes snapped open as his seed covered her face. Her mouth was shut tight, but her eyes were softly closed. It was even more erotic in that moment.

Draco apologised with each knew stream, and when he finished, he conjured a warm wet cloth for Granger to clean up with.

Panting, Draco relaxed. Having forgotten where he was, he fell off the little pouf of a foot rest that Hermione kept in her sitting room. With his trousers around his ankles, there was no way to balance himself, and he oozed to the floor as the foot stool rolled away from him. Humiliated and giddy all at once, Draco began laughing.

* * *

_You owe me. I don’t care that you licked my slit for hours last week after. You did a very dirty thing to me, and you’ll have to make it up._

_I want a steaming bath, scented with oils. I want to feel your fingertips massaging every delicate curve of my body, sliding over my slick skin. You will have to be very good, touching me only where I want._

_Then, when your prick is hard, pulsing just from worshipping me, I want you to begin again. I want to feel your fingers over my clit and inside my tight hole, until I’m coming apart around you. I want to watch you wank, spilling your seed on the floor. Then your mouth, your tongue, fucking me until you are out of your mind with need, hard and ready to fuck me..._

* * *

Draco couldn’t believe what Granger had done to her bathroom between Wednesday and Friday. When he had shown up at her door, it swung open to allow him passage, and he followed a trail of candles back, through her bedroom, to the en suite.

She was already soaking, her hair a curling mess, pulled away from her face. The smell of fine whiskey was in the air, and when she turned her head to look at him, her eyes looked like whiskey too.

Granger leered at him and whispered, “I’ve already made myself come twice tonight.”

She was debauched and beautiful and divine.

Draco stripped as fast as he could, stopping only when he got to his too-tight pants. One size too small as she had asked, there was no hiding how hard he was already.

Granger’s eyes lingered over the outline of his manhood a moment before she began to climb out of her bath. Candlelight flickered over her body, and the steam in the room wafted around them. In front of the sink was a massage table.

Stepping forward as quickly as he could, Draco helped her onto it.

She laid down on her belly, pressing her body against the soft fabric covering the mat with a contented sigh. Her hair tumbled over her face.

The steam and heat made Draco feel dizzy and as his blood rushed south, he had to brace himself on the corner of the sink. Her foot, pale and wrinkled, dangled over the end of the table. Draco watched the water drip from her toes.

He didn’t wait long enough to think about what he was doing. He picked up her foot, tenderly as if it might shatter, and slid his tongue around her big toe. It passed between his lips for just a moment when Granger spoke.

“Ah-ah. Fingers first... then your mouth.”

Draco groaned but pulled back. Her chuckle made him want to roar or climb on top of her and take her, or shove his tongue into her mouth. Instead, he played by the rules, and began massaging a delicious citrus oil from the counter into her skin.

Where the smell of whiskey had made him feel drunk, the combination with the citrus made him feel languid, and loose. Massaging her calves up to her thighs, Draco wasn’t entirely sure where he stopped and she began.

When his hands arrived at her arse, he squeezed, pulling her cheeks apart so he could look at her most secret places. Her pussy was glistening, dark pink from the heat of her bath, at least, but he also hoped his treatment of her was also accountable. She was sighing and groaning as he worked her muscles, and moving to her back, he knew that countless hours bent over her desk would give him plenty to do.

After a few minutes, as he was carefully massaging beneath her shoulder blades, Granger turned her head in his direction. “Your tip is out.”

Draco wasn’t quite sure what to say. The only thing that was keeping his cock against his body was the pants, but they also teased him as he moved about, touching and rubbing him.

“Is that for me?”

“Are you pissed, Granger? Of course, it’s for you.”

“Delightfully inebriated, but not excessively so.” She rolled over to lie on her back. “I write a letter. I burn it. I come home, have a bath and a drink.”

Draco watched her hands press down her body toward her core. Stunned for a moment, he stepped forward to resume his massage.

“Wank.”

He froze. They hadn’t gotten that far into the letter yet. Of course he wanted to, but...

Granger dragged her hands up her body to her breasts for a moment, before raising them up by her head. “What do you do? Rush home after the meeting, I know, but do you strip down right away? Do you wait until you know I’m done? Do you take my letter to bed at night? Save it for the morning?”

“Fuck me, Granger.” Draco stumbled back, sitting on the side of the tub. It was still steaming, and Draco felt his back begin to sweat. He exposed his cock, wrapping one hand around it, while he braced himself with the other.

“Tell me.”

Draco looked at her, with her heavy eyelids and her shameless nakedness. “I get home, check the post, get out of my work clothes. I find a place, sometimes the sofa, sometimes my desk chair, it depends—“

“On what?”

Squeezing his cock hard, Draco groaned. _Always with the questions!_ “Where I am at six o’clock!”

“Why then?”

Draco wriggled out of his pants, careful not to fall from the edge of the tub. Then, he gripped his prick with one hand and slapped his balls with the other. Granger hummed, and he looked at her from across the room. “You’re the only one there at six. They think you’re working, but you’re not. You’re sitting there, nipples hard, dripping into your knickers. It’s just us then.”

“Are you close? The sooner you come, the sooner you get to lick me.”

The problem was, he wasn’t close at all. He was hard, ragingly so, but he felt like he could pull on his cock all night long. Reaching back, he dipped his hand into her oiled bath water. As he wrapped his hand, slick and hot, around him again, he groaned. It was a strangled sound. “This is wasted on my hand. You should let me fuck you, then lick your cunt.”

“I _do_ enjoy feeling you fuck me... but you said you like my letters.” Granger turned and smiled at him, her legs falling over the sides of the table.

She was fingering herself. Draco squeezed his hand over his cock, desperate to see her pussy spread like he knew it was. “I fucking love your letters. You’re such a filthy little nymph.”

“Why don’t you come for me, then?” she asked, her voice coming across the room to tease him. On the table she was pulling her nipples away from her chest and squeezing the flesh underneath.

Draco squeezed his balls, pulling on his cock in all his favourite ways. He watched as her feet came back up to push her a bit on the table. Now her hair was dangling off the end, pulling her head back, and the rest of her body arched as she pleasured herself.

“I want you to lick me, Draco. Just finish.”

“You. Let me here you come.” He was sure that would bring him off. Her pleased chuckle alone sent shivers down his spine, and he switched hands as his wrist began to tire. “Come for me like you did after the letter.”

Draco watched as Hermione’s left arm wrapped around her tits, squeezing the right one in her hand and playing with her nipple. Her head turned, and her cheek rested on the pillow. “It’s different now. Knowing that I’m going to get what I want.” Her right hand traced over her belly, and Draco watched her wrist bend sharply as she plucked at her core. “Knowing what your tongue... mmmm, oh and your lips—“

The sound of her fingers entering her pussy filled the room, seemingly echoing off the walls. It started a domino effect, as Draco imagined it was his fingers in that tight wet hole, and then his cock. The sounds, strangled in her throat felt like fire licking at his balls. He was so excited as he felt his orgasm coming on, not just because it felt amazing, but because he knew he’d finally get to taste her, and then fuck her.

He wasn’t entirely paying attention, but it sounded like she had brought herself off just as he was finally spilling his seed on the floor. Draco sat there, panting and trying to get every last drop out of his cock. Once he could see almost straight, he pushed himself away from her bath tub, and staggered to the end of the table where her feet were rubbing against each other.

Draco reached back to whip a towel off the rack. Then he pulled her body so her arse came to the table’s edge. Kneeling on the towel, he draped her thighs across his shoulders. He ignored that he was supposed to use his mouth as he had his hands. Instead, he needed to taste her, seal his mouth over her pussy, devouring her until he was hard enough again to fuck her.

His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place. Every wriggle, every twist away from him was countered with a pleading from her lips. She wanted more, she _wanted_ him devour her. Her nails rake across his scalp, and Draco slid his teeth over her opening just enough for to feel it. Then he fucked her with his tongue like he knew he would fuck her with his prick.

He was almost ready. Sliding his lips to her clit, Draco fingered her, two of his fingers twisting in her as stretched her. Her little hands were no preface to what he was hoping to do with his cock. As Draco stretched her, Hermione keened, fists pounding on the table.

Draco reached down, feeling the tip of his cock leaking. He was ready. At last, two days of anticipation were over. He stood, making sure to rub his chest on her arse and thighs as he did. Her feet were behind his head, but he wanted her spread open. Holding an ankle in each hand, he moved Hermione’s thighs until they resisted.

Her pussy was open, ready for him. Draco swivelled his hips to get himself aligned. When the head of his cock fell on her clit, he chuckled. Then, he pulled his hips back, watching has his cock slid down to her tight pussy. “Granger.”

“Do it. Push it in.”

“Look at me.”

She was panting, and her eyes were closed as she waited for him. Draco wanted to watch her face as he fucked her, wanted to see her eyes connect with his as they lived out this fantasy of hers. Hermione licked her lips again, and then her eyes opened slowly.

As they did, Draco pushed the head of his cock into her. She whined, tilting her hips for more, but he wasn’t going to push in until she was really looking at him. The moments drew out, and soon Draco couldn’t put off the feeling of being buried inside her body.

He surged his hips forward, going in as far as he could. _That_ was when her eyes snapped open, connecting with his. He started slowly, feeling the whole length of him move in and out of her. She was purring as he stroked her like this, and that wound Draco’s impulses tighter and tighter. He began fucking her at his own pace, listening to the sounds that came out of her trembling mouth. They stared at each other, completely connected, as he pushed into her again and again. His hands were tight around her ankles, and he kept stretching her thighs back.

Eventually, her arms came around the backs of her knees, holding herself open. Draco moved his hands to her breasts, squeezing them as he stared into her eyes. Hermione blinked slowly once, and as her eyes fluttered open again, Draco was lost, slamming deep inside of her to shoot off again and again.

His cry was hoarse, and he shuttered against her hips, cradled in her thighs. It took Draco a long time to catch his breath, longer than it took his prick to soften and fall from inside her. She let go of her knees, her arms like spaghetti as they fell away. Her legs, spread apart, and her hips twisted as her body sought to right itself.

Draco stood and then leaned on the table. He was spent, would have fallen asleep on the massage table with her if he could have, but her big bed was just a few feet away. He reached for Hermione’s fingers, encouraging her to stand as her body became ready.

Arms wrapped around each other, they hobbled, snorting and smirking along the way. As they left the bathroom, Draco whispered, “Nox,” and every candle in the house went out. It was pitch black, and he and Hermione stumbled over each other before falling into bed. Draco was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

“Malfoy. It’s Saturday.” Hermione shoved at the immovable mass of man in her bed. Yes, he had _dozed_ at her place before, but that was between bouts of amazing, literally fantastic sex.

This was not the case right now though. It was approaching noon on Saturday, and this was definitely _out of bounds_. She didn’t want anyone getting any _ideas_.

She pushed him with her feet on his thighs, hoping that something would wake him up, even if it was his body falling off the bed. She was so intent, on waking him that she didn’t notice his move before it was too late.

Hermione Granger found herself, _on a Saturday_ , with Draco Malfoy’s fingers laced between hers as he sucked on her neck. His ankles were over her knees, pinning her down so her body was spread in a big ‘X’.

“Come to dinner with me tonight.”

The words pushed into her ear, and his mouth was hot as it teased her to distraction.

“No. Malfoy. Get off.”

Hermione tried to make it sound like she meant it. She suspected she had failed.

“Give me a good reason you can’t be my date tonight.”

Malfoy’s head moved away, and the bright sunlight streaming in the window reminded Hermione of her point. “I’m not dating you Malfoy. I write. You perform.”

His feet slid away from her legs, and he moved to kneel over her. “I get absurdly turned on when you talk like that. Do you think I have some sort of submissive complex?”

“Says the man who is pinning me down. Get off!”

“If you agree to have dinner with me. In a restaurant where everyone can see. Probably the fanciest place you’ve ever been.” He finished his condescending comment with a press of his nose against hers.

Drawing her knees up and between their bodies, Hermione used his moment of distraction to _press_ up, flipping him off her.

Malfoy, thinking he was falling off the bed, panicked, flailing a bit. However, when they were settled again, Hermione was straddling his belly, her wrists still locked in his hands. “Seriously, what are you on about?”

“I want—no—I _need_ to go on a date with you. I need to be seen out, and I need everyone to know that you’re spoken for.”

“I’m not spoken for. Isn’t there a whole secretarial pool to go out with?” Hermione looked down at him, earnestly concerned he’d taken on a fever or something.

“Are you busy? Is that why you won’t go out with me? Listen, Granger, it’ll never work.”

“ _What? _”__

__“Granger, honestly, you have to realise what has happened here. You will never find a wizard who can satisfy you like I can. If you start dating someone, you’ll be all prim and proper. You can’t settle for mediocre sex, not after _this_.”_ _

__Malfoy’s hands finally loosened from around her wrists, moving to rub her thighs. Hermione was about to speak, but he seemed to have thought of another point._ _

__“Besides, some other bloke won’t understand your long work hours, your little friendship with Potty and the Weasel. He’ll be jealous. He’ll know something is missing, that you’re not telling him, and he’ll assume it’s one of those tossers, when it’s really _this_ ,” Malfoy grunted, sitting up awkwardly and wrapping on arm behind her back before saying, “_tosser_.”

Hermione looked behind her back, finding Malfoy’s fingers wrapped around his half-hard cock.

“Remember this one? When I got agent of the year, before you knew I knew? You love to think about my cock in my hand don’t you? Play along, yeah? Hands on tits.”

Then his mouth was on her collar bone again, and Hermione couldn’t help but remember what she’d written when he’d been honoured. His fingers stroked her bum as he stroked himself. They touched themselves and each other lazily, and then Malfoy looked up at her, his eyes soft and dark.

“It’s not a marriage proposal, just dinner,” he said. His voice was low, quiet and confident.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, decided but not saying.

Malfoy licked his lips. “Your _quim_ just melted all over my belly, Granger. Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

And then, as he sometimes did when he was victorious in or out of the bedroom, Malfoy shouted, letting out a short roar. Hermione threw her head back, unable to keep from laughing. Then, she let him be victorious all afternoon.


End file.
